In July Dylan Thayer ran the the entire Maryland section of the Appalachian Trail to raise money to support the work of Ubuntu Sports Outreach. We met Dylan a few summers ago at The Great Escape where Sarah was speaking. He decided to do something crazy to support our work and we were blessed by it. Dylan is a junior at Hamilton College in New York and runs cross country there. He won't like us bragging, but he ran 44 miles in 8 hours, 9 minutes, and 37 seconds! Holy long run!! He also raised almost $4,000!! Can you believe that?!?! When he first started he wanted to fund one school team, instead he funded over 5 teams!
We're so thankful to have guys like Dylan that believe in what we're doing and want to be a part of it. That's the essence of "ubuntu". Often I feel like we're building a family that stretches across the United States, throughout Cape Town, and beyond. We will always need this family to be strong and broad if we're going to accomplish the work God has set out for us! Please read Dylan's reflections below about his run.
Cheers,
Casey
At its core, the Bible is really just a collection of stories.
Ok, I know. I basically just made a statement along the lines of, “If you think about it, it’s kinda hot in summer,” or “You know, people are reading less because of the Internet.” It wasn’t a big intellectual leap. Just bear with me here, though.
So, the Bible is just a collection of disparate, disjointed stories that were transmitted orally and then at some point written down, collected, edited, re-edited and argued over endlessly and translated into more languages than any of us can list because of the belief that they all tell one big story about a species called Man and his struggle with his Creator. And while that big story is important, sometimes we can focus so much on the big picture that we lose the little nitty-gritty struggles and emotions that go along with the smaller stories that serve as building blocks of the overarching narrative.
And that’s where we all make a huge mistake: we stand back and we look at these stories as part of a larger masterpiece that God has painted and, whether we intend to or not, we surrender a tiny bit of our faith, and then a bit more, and then a little more as we grow older and more cynical by clinging steadfastly to the boring and safe belief that this could never possibly happen to us.
I can’t, you can’t, he/she/it can’t: that is the verb that we decline in our own heads with depressing regularity. We look at those stories and rob them of their power by thinking that none of us could ever possibly do something as miraculous as part the Red Sea, or feed five thousand people, or bring two people back from the dead. What we don’t stop to consider is that a lot of us have siblings who suck sometimes (like Joseph) or have responsibilities hoisted upon us before we really feel ready (like Jeremiah) or have the ability to be totally clueless occasionally (like the Apostles). No, we fixate like bugs around a lamp on the miraculous action and complete lose sight of the fact that the people God chose to do it were often impossibly mundane.
I ran across the Maryland portion of the Appalachian Trail in July because I believe that it’s part of a plan that God has revealed to me. How special does that make me? Very special, and yet not all special. How crazy does that make me? I don’t know, but I’m willing to be crazy. Crazy, thus far, has been much more fun than sane.
I don’t want to get into the details of what happened out there a few months ago, because the monotony of chronicling the 44.6 miles I ran, or the roughly 70,000 strides I put down, one in front of the other, would only serve as self-aggrandizement. I’m not going to talk about how much money I raised, or discuss my financial acumen, because that would be in poor taste. If I may be a bit jib, there are many things I do well, but bragging isn’t one of them.
However, if there is one impression I could leave the reader with concerning my ministry, it would be this: What happens when a totally ordinary man turns to the power of God in an effort to become transcendently great? What happens when you stop begging God for miracles and decide that you’re going to try and be one? For me, the answer turned out to be something pretty incredible that changed, (and hopefully will continue to change) not just my life but also the lives of hundreds of other people living half a world away.
I won’t get into whether what I did was a true miracle or not. I won’t get into what my plans for the future with Ubuntu or anybody else are; this is partially because as a college junior teetering on the abyss of the real world and trying to fall back on the everlasting arms, even I don’t have the faintest idea, although I do have plans.
All I can say for certain is this: miracles didn’t stop happening when the ink dried on the final scroll of the final sheet of papyrus included in the Bible. There are miracles happening all over the world now as you read this. And you could be one, if you want: I know from experience, at any rate, that crazy is much more fun than sane. Wouldn’t it be fun, after all, in God’s great woven tapestry of human experience, to have a few threads all to yourself, and a story that you could call your very own?
 |
| Trucking through the AT. |
Cheers,
Casey
 |
| Taking a Break |
Ok, I know. I basically just made a statement along the lines of, “If you think about it, it’s kinda hot in summer,” or “You know, people are reading less because of the Internet.” It wasn’t a big intellectual leap. Just bear with me here, though.
So, the Bible is just a collection of disparate, disjointed stories that were transmitted orally and then at some point written down, collected, edited, re-edited and argued over endlessly and translated into more languages than any of us can list because of the belief that they all tell one big story about a species called Man and his struggle with his Creator. And while that big story is important, sometimes we can focus so much on the big picture that we lose the little nitty-gritty struggles and emotions that go along with the smaller stories that serve as building blocks of the overarching narrative.
And that’s where we all make a huge mistake: we stand back and we look at these stories as part of a larger masterpiece that God has painted and, whether we intend to or not, we surrender a tiny bit of our faith, and then a bit more, and then a little more as we grow older and more cynical by clinging steadfastly to the boring and safe belief that this could never possibly happen to us.
I can’t, you can’t, he/she/it can’t: that is the verb that we decline in our own heads with depressing regularity. We look at those stories and rob them of their power by thinking that none of us could ever possibly do something as miraculous as part the Red Sea, or feed five thousand people, or bring two people back from the dead. What we don’t stop to consider is that a lot of us have siblings who suck sometimes (like Joseph) or have responsibilities hoisted upon us before we really feel ready (like Jeremiah) or have the ability to be totally clueless occasionally (like the Apostles). No, we fixate like bugs around a lamp on the miraculous action and complete lose sight of the fact that the people God chose to do it were often impossibly mundane.
I ran across the Maryland portion of the Appalachian Trail in July because I believe that it’s part of a plan that God has revealed to me. How special does that make me? Very special, and yet not all special. How crazy does that make me? I don’t know, but I’m willing to be crazy. Crazy, thus far, has been much more fun than sane.
I don’t want to get into the details of what happened out there a few months ago, because the monotony of chronicling the 44.6 miles I ran, or the roughly 70,000 strides I put down, one in front of the other, would only serve as self-aggrandizement. I’m not going to talk about how much money I raised, or discuss my financial acumen, because that would be in poor taste. If I may be a bit jib, there are many things I do well, but bragging isn’t one of them.
However, if there is one impression I could leave the reader with concerning my ministry, it would be this: What happens when a totally ordinary man turns to the power of God in an effort to become transcendently great? What happens when you stop begging God for miracles and decide that you’re going to try and be one? For me, the answer turned out to be something pretty incredible that changed, (and hopefully will continue to change) not just my life but also the lives of hundreds of other people living half a world away.
I won’t get into whether what I did was a true miracle or not. I won’t get into what my plans for the future with Ubuntu or anybody else are; this is partially because as a college junior teetering on the abyss of the real world and trying to fall back on the everlasting arms, even I don’t have the faintest idea, although I do have plans.
All I can say for certain is this: miracles didn’t stop happening when the ink dried on the final scroll of the final sheet of papyrus included in the Bible. There are miracles happening all over the world now as you read this. And you could be one, if you want: I know from experience, at any rate, that crazy is much more fun than sane. Wouldn’t it be fun, after all, in God’s great woven tapestry of human experience, to have a few threads all to yourself, and a story that you could call your very own?
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